


It Had to Be This Way

by eadreytheiptscray



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Character Death, Gen, I quoted this poem in a post and this image came to my head, Mako Mori Lives, On the Run, Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Fix-It, So much for getting to bed early, Worth It, You understand now why I had to write it down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eadreytheiptscray/pseuds/eadreytheiptscray
Summary: The helicopter crash was a surprise, but everything else happened as expected. | Based on Mary Elizabeth Frye's "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep."
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	It Had to Be This Way

**_Do not stand at my grave and weep._ **

Mako crawls out of the wreckage of the helicopter, tasting blood on her tongue and gasoline in the air. The ringing in her ears drowns out the roaring of the fire behind her and the chaos all around her, both sparked by a faceless titan.

Fresh memories of her brother's jaeger falling too short are already branding themselves on her mind. She could almost hear him screaming her name. She hobbles down the crumbling street quicker in case it's not her imagination.

This isn't how she'd wanted it to end. People want her dead, and she's giving them what they want.

And at what cost?

* * *

**_I am not there, I do not sleep._ **

The funeral procession plays on every TV in the city. A jaeger honor guard, led by Lady Avenger, escorts the memory of Secretary General Mako Mori through the streets of Tokyo.

How fitting that her story would come full circle: the Daughter of Tokyo, born of ash and anger in a dingy alley would be laid to rest with figures of Japanese legend.

The bus peels away from the station as Jake steps up to deliver a eulogy. Later, Mako's subconscious will superimpose Sensei's stoic expression over his. Funny, she thinks, that Jake claims he's not his father.

They have another thing in common now: living only in Mako's memory.

* * *

**_I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow._ **

The Australian bush stretches to the horizon. Red dust traces Mako's journey to the secluded homestead, but she doubts anyone is searching for her now.

A derelict cabin with a wide wooden porch juts out of the grassy sea like a weather-worn island. As the rental car crawls closer, Mako can make out a few shade trees and a fence defining the property line. The tires crunch as Mako turns down the gravel drive.

The uneven wooden staircase creaks as she walks to the front door. She readjusts the overnight bag over her shoulder.

Knock, knock, knock.

Bloodshot eyes peer through the crack, and a choked sob answers. Herc flings the door open, and Mako bursts into tears.

* * *

**_I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain._ **

The homestead is quiet most days. Herc spends practically every hour of daylight outdoors tending livestock, with a young Blue Heeler racing two steps ahead of him. Mako prefers the predictable, comfortable enclosure of the living room, curling up with a lethargic Max on the ancient sofa and reading to keep her mind from wandering. (It sometimes works.)

For the first three weeks, Mako's heart would race every time Herc's ham radio crackled. It was never news from Marshal Quan, however. Only static, perhaps, or interference.

Three months in, Mako stops listening.

Six months in, Mako stops counting.

* * *

**_When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night._ **

"Is it always this beautiful?"

Herc grunts, downing the last of his beer.

The stars gleam in the inky black sky. It reminds Mako of a childhood in another life, one spent in a small Japanese village with doting parents and lots of friends and hardships that ended when the sun set.

"Shooting star." Herc points to a streak of white flashing across the sky. "Make a wish."

They both smirk, but Mako makes a wish, anyway.

Her loved ones keep her from sleeping that night. Tamsin's cheeky smiles accompanies memories of mischief; Sensei's Marshal Pentecost guise melts as he stoops to tie the shoes of his recently adopted daughter; Jake's goofy expression hardens as he becomes the delinquent in the hologram.

And Raleigh...

Orders were orders. And she would continue to respect them, not out of blind obedience but duty to protect the people she cared about.

No matter how much she wishes to come out of hiding.

* * *

**_Do not stand at my grave and cry._ **

Ornery livestock had kept Herc busy most of the day, so Mako drives his rusty pickup into town to pick up essentials. She'd forgotten what civilization sounded like. Cars honk in the distance, carts rattle as they're shuttled across pavement, and shoppers chatter on about the weather to cashiers feigning interest.

A newspaper at the checkout counter catches her eye, and she throws it onto the conveyor with the groceries. Her heart races the whole way home.

Herc freezes when he trudges through the door, dusty boots in hand. "What happened?"

Mako tosses the newspaper on the table.

"'Remembering the Obsidian Fury Attacks One Year Later,'" he reads. "So it's been that long already."

Mako finishes putting away the groceries and joins him at the table. Just as she suspected, two dates are listed under Marshal Quan's photo. Beneath the fold, her own face stares back.

"'Two months following the kaiju attack on Tokyo,'" Herc continues, "'it was discovered that former PPDC K-Scientist Newton Geiszler orchestrated the attack that led to the deaths of 58 people in Sydney, including PPDC Secretary General Mako Mori. Subsequent attacks led to the deaths of 89 civilians and 36 PPDC personnel, including Marshal Chenglei Quan.'"

Mako glances at the silent ham radio.

"You're crying."

"Am I?" Mako wipes her face and stares at the tears on her fingertips.

Herc squeezes Mako's shoulder as he crosses the room to fiddle with the ham radio. Stirred from sleep, Max whines, and Mako joins him in the only sunny spot in the cabin.

After a few minutes, Herc says, "Where would you like to go first?"

* * *

**_I am not there, I did not die._ **

Seven days and seven thousand miles later, Mako trudges through a foot of snow in a dense forest outside Anchorage.

It's not her first stop; she'd spent four days in Hong Kong catching up with Jake and an afternoon in San Francisco visiting Tendo. Leaving them both had been bittersweet. The world had already buried her, so she's in no hurry to attract attention by resurrecting herself.

Icy wind slices through her heaviest coat, no match against the bitter Alaskan winds. Existential exile had come with a heavy price, and she fears it's time to pay dearly.

It had been ten years and eight months since she and Raleigh had parted ways - only temporarily, they had told each other. Time lies when it comes to making promises, as she's learned the hard way.

She could only hope those promises made in a Conn-Pod a lifetime ago still hold true. 

Her hands shake as she climbs up icy stairs onto the swept porch. White steam curls around the wreath on the door as she knocks.

Floorboards inside creak as a pair of footsteps cross the hall. The deadbolt squeaks, and the door handle slowly turns.

Silence greets her.

"Raleigh?" Her breath catches in her chest.

Raleigh flings the door open wide and barrels into her, squeezing her into a hug long overdue.

Hot tears stream down Mako's face, and all she can think to say is, "I'm home."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting instead of working on my WIPs. But I couldn't get this idea out of my head, so no regrets.


End file.
